Open Wide
by AndrogyMous
Summary: Isabela has bared her heart to F!Hawke, but what will it take for Hawke to cast aside her facetious behaviour and do the same? Varric knows just the solution!
1. Chapter 1

NOTES: Thanks for reading. This is the first chapter (totally un-beta'd) of what will be a very short series (3 chaps max). Hope you enjoy!

_**Open Wide**_

Living in the Hanged Man, I saw lots of things: Drunk people crying over lost love, drunk men fighting over lost honor, drunk women coaxing drunk men to lose a few dollars; this is the way of the Tavern I called home. Nestled in my (secretly) favourite part of town, you could lose damn well anything there, but if you're skilled and observant, your winnings can far outweigh the losses. Thus is the predicament I found two of my favourite ladies in Kirkwall (save for Daisy, of course).

"Rivaini!" walking down the stairs, I spied the unexpected; Isabela sitting at my table in the back corner of the bar looking mighty thoughtful. Rivaini was many things, but somber and reflective? Not her style at all. "Why the sad face?"

She stiffened at my words as though they were a brutal accusation. (ah, so predictable it's nearly endearing, but don't ever tell her I said that, got it? Her ego is inflated enough; I'm sure her crewmen used it to float to Kirkwall after that damned shipwreck!) Settling next to the pirate, I called Norah over for two ales - on my tab. Isabela's muscles instantly untensed at the gesture. Tapping my gloved hand on the table, "Come on, Rivaini, tell your favourite, lovable dwarf what's bothering you." I could have sworn I saw the hellion blush, oh, this ought to be good!

Her eyes skittered forth from her ale, to the bar, and finally to me, then back to her ale, "I..." there was a pause as she trailed off, her expression suddenly turned serious and looked me dead in the eyes, "You have to PROMISE not to talk to Hawke about any of this!"

"Mums the word, Rivaini, now out with it."

Her gazed settled back on the untouched ale, fingers knitting themselves together as she held onto the glass mug with both hands like a life raft. She sighed, "Hawke... I..." I sipped at my drink, giving her the space she needed to unfold her tale. "I have... well..." Finally, she slapped both hands on the table in frustration, "Oh sod it! I have been very... honest with Hawke. I have... have told Hawke... how I feel."

"That you love her," I offered in mercy.

She turned her head, eyes wide with affirmation, "Yes! But she..."

"Hasn't returned the sentiment?"

"No," her expression turned incredibly gentle, it was almost sickening to watch! "No, she's very loving. It's just... she hasn't actually... said the words."

"And you want to hear her say those three precious words, huh?"

"Oh, I hate myself for it! I feel like I've been trumped in a game of cards by the kitten!" I laughed heartily at that, "I'm not supposed to... feel these things for someone but I do, and, don't get me wrong, I've accepted that. It's just... it's like Hawke twined me around her little finger without my even noticing, Varric. The sex is fantastic, she's everything I need her to be right when I need it; gentle, brutal, forceful, lustful, all of it. But I'm honest with her and I'm changing for her and I told her I loved her three times! Maker's balls, I just..."

"Want the reassurance?" I supplied. The look she gave me was one of pitiful, pitiful defeat.

"I guess," her ego deflated as she slumped onto the table, resting her brow on her forearms. Hawke had done the unimaginable, knocked Isabela onto earth.

"Ya know, Rivaini, Hawke did kill the Arishok for you."

"Bullshit, Hawke would've had to kill the Arishok whether I came back or not."

"Hawke could have handed you over, no problem." I countered.

"Hawke would never do that to anyone, Varric. She's full of that blighted nobility."

A silence passed between us as I rolled the predicament around my mind. "You know Hawke loves you, she's just... Ferelden. Ferelden's are squeamish with affection... hell, they seem squeamish with displays of emotion at all! Have you noticed that Hawke has a wise-crack for every occasion? The times when she should've been hurt, offended, or furious she's cracked a joke and laughed it off. It's her way, part of her culture."

"I was in Ferelden just before arriving at Kirkwall; bedded The Hero. She was gorgeous and deadly sexy but hardly a joker. On the contrary, she was constantly serious. I've no idea how she managed to proposition me in the first place, I think it must have something to do with the taint. Maker as my witness, Varric, you'd've thought she was a rut demon, even Zevran couldn't keep up with her. She had energy long after the rest of us passed out, I don't know whether to envy dear old "sister nightingale" or feel sorry of her. And her hands! Oh her hands were magic!" Isabela's expression bordered on swooning, I'd describe it as such if I thought the pirate capable of doing so over anything but a ship.

"Focus here, Rivaini." She snapped out of her reverie. "Why don't you just talk to Hawke about it? Tell her what you need." As the words left my mouth, I realised that might just be an impossible feat for the woman.

"What I NEED is a good rutting." She grabbed her ale and swilled the mug in one sitting, slammed the glass on the table, and marched out of the tavern. I shook my head and sighed at her retreating figure, "Sometimes I think Hawke is a glutton for punishment."


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes: 1) there is smut in this chapter 2) this is my first real hand at smut 3) I have no beta reader 4) I was so eager to get this posted that I didn't do a very thorough edit 5) I'm super sorry 6) I hope you like it!

Another morning spent sending terms of a deal through messengers of The Carta; we passed information back and forth, negotiating small contracts like love notes. The group was as petulant, fickle, and skittish in their dealings as teenagers in love; what an irritating group of nug humpers. Although, I'd rather pass notes than have met those unscrupulous bastards on their own turf, small contracts or not.

After sending the hapless carta lout on his way, I made my way downstairs to my welcoming, grimy oasis... a few pints of ale and banter with a very sour Norah should brighten my morning immensely(!) or so I thought at the time. What I was instead met with was a rather dour looking Hawke gingerly kicking back a jigger of whiskey; completely unbefitting for a Champion - rather, THE Champion. I shook my head at the sight, something told me Isabela's plans from yesterday fell unceremoniously into the bottom of Hawke's glass.

_"Hawke!"_ I slapped her shoulder, _"to what do we low-town ruffians owe the honor of your likeness quite so early in this wondrous morn?" _

_"Varric!"_ she put a smile on her face, slipping into our usual repartee effortlessly, it was admirable to watch considering how distressed she appeared moments prior,_ "why I came all the way here simply to enjoy the brilliance that is your very hairy chested dwarven presence! That and, of course, for the rat dropping flavored whiskey. How else will I ever get the appropriate balance of wheat and feces in my diet?" _

At that, I laughed. Hawke was one of the few people in my life I could always count on to keep pace with me, she was as deviously clever as she was attractive; a diamond in a city of rotten teeth, shit ale, and oppression. - Oh, I'm going to have to use that line the next time I tell the story of her taking down two high dragons and an adult wyvern with her bare hands!

_"Oh Hawke, now now, surely there must be some other reason you are here so early in the morning, drinking whiskey you've claimed to hate time and time again." _some might call the opening I gave to her merciful, but Hawke has never been one to share her burdens nor accept mercy in any form. Drawing her out would take some careful maneuvering.

She simply lifted her jigger for Corff to refill, paying no mind to my baiting,_ "Can't a Champion lounge in a local tavern and lazily drink the day away? There's nothing pressing calling my attention; no abominations wreaking havoc in a hat shop, no slavers busting up a hightown brunch, The Rose is peaceful, The Bone Pit is quiet, and there is nary a contentious whisper even here in The Hanged Man!" _she projected her voice so the other patrons could hear, _"I say we drink to that!"_

_"Hear, hear!" _drunken men lifted their mugs, some spilling ale to the floor. Norah rolled her eyes and growled at the fools.

It was perhaps too soon, maybe I was taking a chance, but decided to pull my "ace in the hole" as they say... _"This wouldn't, by chance, have anything to do with Isabela, would it? I mean, she was here yesterday - which is nothing unusual mind you - though she was talking about... your relationship."_

Hawke's shoulders slumped, _"Good god, man, was she?" _She raised a hand to signal the bartender_, "Corff! Another jigger and a pitcher!" _ She leaned in close while I finally took a seat next to her, _"What did she say?"_

_"Tsk, tsk, Hawke."_ I waved a hand in her face dismissively, _"When people tell me things in confidence, I take that very seriously." _People may consider me a pertinacious gossip, but I do have rules... there is some stitch of honor left in me. I continued on,_ "However... you could tell me what's going on, and we can find... discreet ways... to compare notes." _

Well... it maybe a small stitch.

Hawke laughed heartily, _"Ah, yes, a MASTER of discretion you are." _She downed her jigger briskly, letting out a puff of distilled heat as she exhaled, the fading wisps of a dragon's breath, then poured two glasses of ale. I waited expectantly for her to fill in the gaps of this tale.

_"Isabela asked me if I loved her."_

I heard an ominous crack of thunder, storm clouds suddenly filling the sky turning it pitch black. The ground beneath us shook and the earth opened like a gaping maw, ready to consume us into its furious hellmouth. - Well, not really, but artistic agency, you know how it is.

_"She what?"_ I stared dumbly at Hawke. Yes, I might have given Isabela advice, but for her to actually have taken it... that would be as shocking as the chantry suddenly deciding to support mages and destroying all of the circles in Thedas. _"You can't just drop that on me that way, Hawke. Tell me the whole story... from the start."_ She passed me a mug, took a deep steadying breath, and began...

_"It all started when..."_

_"Maker's breath, Sandal, what the hell are you doing?!" _I stood in the seating room, staring at Sandal incredulously. He was swinging from my blasted chandelier, utterly heedless to the people around him, yelling...

_"Wheee, hehehehe, NOT ENCHANTMENT!" _

_"Bodahn!"_ I howled in righteous anger,_ "Get your fool boy off of my candelabrum!" _

Bodahn draped himself over the ledge of the loft, trying futilely to grab at Sandal every time the chandelier swung in his direction,_ "I'm trying Miss, I truly am, but I just can't reach!" _

_"Well, talk him down, throw something at him if you have to, because if YOU don't get him down I WILL!" _I rest my hands on my daggers, hoping that even in the chaos, Bodahn would receive the threat.

_"I will, Miss, I will!" _Bodahn's arms swung uselessly in the air, all the while Sandal laughed and laughed and laughed. It seemed a weekly occurence that I questioned my own personal judgment in allowing the two to live with me. Truly, what in the Maker's name was I thinking? Isabela says I pick up people like stray kittens, perhaps she's right.

Just as I neared the edge of my patience with the scene playing out, I felt a hand twine in mine. Without even having time to register what was happening, I was ushered upstairs.

Isabela all but dragged me into my room and pushed me onto my bed. I propped myself up on my elbows, and shot her a saucy grin _"Miss me, did you?" _She merely grunted with the effort of unlacing her bodice. Before getting the chance to push myself up to the head of the bed she was naked and mounting me. Leaning over me, she jerked my tunic over my shoulders and tossed it across the room. She made quick work of my trews, and then straddled my hips.

No matter how many times she and I take to bed, I never tire of just... looking at her, there are no words to adequately describe her sensuousness in the Fereldan language. Placing my hands at her waist, I held her in place resisting against her feral urgency so that I selfishly could enjoy her. To her credit, she gave me about a minute to relish the feel of my hands on her supple hips as I grabbed them, of her soft skin as my fingers began to wander up her midriff which rippled tense with the labor of her breath. My fingertips moved onward, skirting the sides of her ample breasts, her dark blushed nipples grew taut without contact. My hands traced over her chest, and met at the base of her neck. Her amber eyes glinted with the ferocity of lust, my hips thrusted into her against my will. She bent down to capture my lips, and our first kiss was rapturous.

_"Wait, wait, wait, Hawke,"_ I put up both my hands to forestall her next words, she looked put upon to be interrupted, but I could not allow this to continue,_ "this is entirely too much information. Can't you skip this part?" _

Hawke's eyebrows furrowed as she seemed to size me up,_ "You're gay, aren't you, Varric? It would certainly explain a lot." _

I rolled my eyes at her, _"Very funny, Hawke, I just don't need to know everything about your sex-life with Rivaini."_

Hawke huffed, _"Oh please, this is no worse than any of the stories Isabela writes about she and I."_

_"Well, for one, Rivaini isn't so damn flowery when she describes sex, and two... it's FICTION!" _the look on my face must have been exasperation, because I was damn well overwhelmed by it.

_"Varric, it's NEVER FICTION, and I am from FERELDEN, this is just how we talk about sex - IF we talk about it at all. Deal with it."_

I grimaced at the admission. For some reason, while believing Rivaini's works were the product of her scandalizing imagination it was entertaining, even sexy, but to find out they were pages taken from life... I really never wanted to know Hawke that intimately. It would somehow make objectifying her heroics to the public feel strange.

Hawke crossed her arms over her chest and gave me that penetrating look she does to end an argument... in her favor. Always in her damn favor.

_"Oh, fine, continue!"_ I gave up.

_"AS I WAS SAYING..."_

Our lips met in a bruising kiss, teeth clashing together. Our mouths opened to each other eagerly, wet, silken tongues battled for dominance. Her body pressed flush against mine, not a sliver of space between us. She took my bottom lip into her mouth and bit down hard. My hands reflexively gripped at her back, fingers digging into her skin, nails leaving scratches along her shoulder blades. Thighs tightened around my hips, her slit painted a wet trail on my belly - desire marked my skin to feel, smell, and taste. She enveloped my senses; moaning into our searing kisses that racked my frame, her scent: whiskey, spiced oil, and musk.. the weight and warmth of her body on mine, her breasts against mine, her skin rubbing against me as we rocked needily against each other. I could eagerly fuck this woman every day for the rest of my life and never get enough. It would never be enough.

I broke our kiss to bite Isabela's neck, HARD. Her loud moan filled the room and she sunk her nails into my hips. Using the moment to my advantage, I flipped her onto her back, and settled myself between her legs. To my surprise, she did not struggle, only wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me back into a ravenous kiss. I cupped my hand against her cunt, and groaned appreciatively as her ample arousal seeped between my fingers. _"Fuck, Isabela, you're so wet."_

Pressing a finger into her slit, I parted her throbbing folds and trailed from her opening to her clit. Her clit was so swollen with need it already peaked from its hood. I swirled my finger around her glistening pearl and drew such sounds from my pirate queen's belly that I could not help but bite at her throat. She pulled at my hair as her hips thrust greedily into my hand.

I leaned into her ear, and whispered, _"Tell me what you want," _as I pressed my palm into her lust-warmed cunt.

Isabela grabbed me by my shoulders and pushed me back until I was able to stare into her eyes. Her words had teeth, _"Fuck me, Hawke. Mmm, Fuck me!"_ but the look in her eyes was so achingly open and vulnerable that my guts twisted and clenched in response. Without warning, I plunged three fingers inside her up to the knuckles of my hand. She cried out as her hips rose to meet me. I moaned in obscene pleasure, being inside Isabela; soft, wet, warm, her muscles fluttering around me, drawing me in; there was nothing I loved more. There was no better feeling than thrusting inside her, listening to her moans and mewls and cries as I filled her.

She wrapped her legs around me, pressing her heels into my ass. There was no preamble, my thrusts were urgent, her hips thrust just as urgently back. Our hips ground into a savage rhythm together, my fingers curled to find the place inside her I knew made her writhe. The force of our rocking caused my poster bed creak and groan along with us. Bending down, I swirled my tongue around her nipple, every circle I drew was in time with a thrust, until I finally made contact, flicking at the taut tip, then taking it into my mouth and sucking hard. Her back arched off the bed, as she did I bit down. The moan that escaped her was so loud it shook both our bodies. I thrust deep, hard in response, rubbing my thumb against her clit. She began to cry out my name, the more she cried out the harder and faster I rubbed at her clit until finally her whole body tensed. Her legs clenched so tight around me as she rode through her orgasm that it was uncomfortable. I continued to pump my fingers inside her, picking up the pace until my muscles burned and my hand cramped, she rolled from one orgasm quickly into another as she let out a strangled cry.

Her body went limp beneath me, very slowly I pulled my fingers out of her, brought them to my lips, licking her wetness off my hands. She reached out for me weakly, saying my name over and over in not more than a whisper. Gently I rolled off of her, and pulled her into my embrace. She rest her head on my shoulder, nuzzling her face into my neck, and quickly fell asleep.

_"Wait a minute, she fell asleep?"_ This was too much, even for Rivaini. _"She didn't return the favour?"_

Hawke shrugged sheepishly in response, _"It was intense, she fell asleep. It happens. Besides, she returned the favour when she woke up." _

I put both of my hands on the bar, my face contorted in my aggravation, _"So you were going to walk me through ANOTHER sex scene before you got to the point of this story, Hawke? I know you're not serious." _

_"It is important to set the tone." _She sipped at her ale as though it were a perfectly natural response, not an ounce of shame.

I growled, _"Bullshit, Hawke, you're just showing off. Get to the part that leaves you sulking at the Hanged Man." _

_"I wasn't sulking!"_ Hawke had the indecency to actually look scandalized by the comment. As though she hadn't needlessly went on and on about her sex life with the Rivaini. Sometimes I think Isabela is a bad influence on our dear ole Champion.

_"Get to the point!" _I barked at her.

_"Oh fine, spoilsport!" _She threw her hands up in the air as an act of submission.

_"After another glorious and thorough bout of rutting this morning..."_

_"Hawke?"_ Isabela lay on her side beside me, her head propped up by her hand. I stretched my body fully, long and slow, like a satisfied cat. I laid on my back and pulled her into a light kiss in response. She stared at me as I lay contentedly,_ "Do you love me?" _

And I laughed. I do not know why I laughed, but I laughed. I laughed, and then I cracked some joke about rich, spoilt, fat kids and cake. And then I laughed again.

But she did not laugh. And she continued not to laugh as she got out of bed, and put on her clothes. And she continued not to laugh as I chased after her, completely naked, to the front door. And she most definitely continued NOT to laugh as she slammed said door in my face.

_"Hawke?"_ I inquired tentatively. She merely _"Hmm?"ed_ in response. _"You are a fool. A smart-assed Fereldan fool. You need to find a way to make it up to her because for once she was doing the right thing, and you managed to royally mess it up."_

Hawke dropped her head, smacking it squarely on the bar. _"Maker's balls, I know, Varric. I can be loving, can act the part - well, mostly - I am just, not very good at actually saying the words."_

I put a firm hand on her shoulder, _"Well, you better find a way, Hawke, because the two of you have put a lot of time, effort, and BLOOD into this relationship. Don't scare her away now!" _

Hawke sat up, rolled her shoulders back, and had the confident, determined gleam of a warrior,_ "I will. I will find a way to set this right!"_

_"Great!"_ I slapped her shoulder.

_"Just... after a couple more jiggers." _

I sighed. Rivaini is a bad influence indeed. Or maybe they are just perfect for each other.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Yeah, Varric might be hella camp in this chapter. But I'm a big ole homo, so deal with it, bitchaaaz. *snapz


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